


jerin prompts

by macsdennis



Category: Derry Girls (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Ratings may change, as u can probably tell, i also love michelle, i love jerin, maybe slight smut later on, slight angst for some, we will see
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-14
Updated: 2020-06-18
Packaged: 2021-02-22 16:32:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 28
Words: 14,570
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22718944
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/macsdennis/pseuds/macsdennis
Summary: i found a few lists of prompts on pinterest (bc i am a pinterest mum) so i’ve decided to once again write about one of my favourite ever ships!will be a mix of canon compliant fic and modern/alternate au’shope u enjoy xox
Relationships: James Maguire/Erin Quinn
Comments: 47
Kudos: 107





	1. baking

**Author's Note:**

> this one is v cute and also reflects my real life bc i am notoriously terrible at baking

“Right. Let’s do this.”  
Erin and James stood like army commanders in front of their soldiers. Eggs, flour, milk, cocoa powder, butter, sugar, whisk, bowl.  
Sorted.  
James looked around the Quinn kitchen nervously. “Do you have a recipe book or something?”  
Erin scoffed. “We don’t need a recipe book, James, I know how to make a chocolate cake. Besides, Granda will love his birthday cake, even if it has a few imperfections.”  
As Erin busied herself hacking up the butter, which was still stone-cold, James rolled his eyes. He loved his girlfriend’s determination, but knew it often led to her downfall. However, he knew better than to get in the way of Erin and her goal. 

Forty minutes later, James was deeply regretting his decision to not stand in her way.  
“How did this go so wrong?!” Erin was a sight to behold, stood in the middle of the kitchen, flour in her hair and chocolate down her front, wailing bloody murder. The kitchen was an absolute mess and there was black, acrid-smelling smoke pouring out of the oven.  
“Hey, hey,” James’s eyes were watering profusely and his hair was covered in flour. “It’s okay, don’t worry! I’m sure we can-“  
Erin had taken the cake out of the oven.  
It was a black, sunken brick. 

She slid down the side of the cabinet and plopped onto the floor.  
“This was a disaster.”  
James sat down next to her and put his floury arm around her; Erin buried her face in his shoulder. “Don’t even think about saying ‘I told you so’.”  
“Wouldn’t dream of it.” 

It was at that moment that the front door banged open: James’s heart fell through into his stomach and Erin immediately broke out into a cold sweat. Ma Mary’s voice rang out through the house.  
“Alright, love, sorry I took so long, the queue was- WHAT IN GOD’S NAME HAVE YOU DONE TO MY KITCHEN?”


	2. “what is your problem?”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> this is if erin was the one to go after james instead of michelle in the s2 finale

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry this one is v sad

“What is your problem?”  
The freezing wind whipped Erin’s hair across her face as she struggled to keep up with James.  
“Hey, don’t ignore me. HEY!”

James abruptly turned around, almost causing Erin to run into him.  
“Erin, just-“ She had never seen him this worked up. “Just fuck off, okay?”

She took a step back. She could feel tears welling up. Don’t cry, don’t cry. Her face felt hot and her throat closed up. Don’t cry.  
“W-what?”  
James’s face was stricken. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. Please don’t cry.”

Erin sniffed. “I’m not.” 

Silence.  
James looked away. “I can’t stay here. I just can’t.”  
“Why not?”  
“I-“ he caught her gaze again. His grey eyes shimmered. “I need to leave.”  
“But I don’t want you to.” Erin’s voice cracked.  
“Don’t make me do this.”  
“Don’t make me beg. I will, I’ll beg. Please.”  
“Erin.”  
Erin was sobbing now. The wind pushed the tears across her cheeks. “You’re a Derry girl.”  
“No I’m not.”  
“What about us?”  
James caught her hand but she flinched away. His mouth was turned down at the corners as he evidently tried not to cry.  
“Erin, I-“  
“I love you.”  
“Don’t do this to me. Don’t fucking do this. I need to go.”

He stepped away from her.  
“Goodbye, Erin.”

Erin stood, alone, in the wind.


	3. “i feel so stupid”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> fuck john-paul lives

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> james’s denim jacket had to make a cameo at some point

“Just fuck off, James!”  
Erin could feel the tears cascading down her face as she stormed away from the café. James followed her, struggling to keep up.  
“Erin, come on-“  
“Leave me alone!”

The afternoon was cold and everything seemed to be the same shade of grey, dark clouds grumbling and threatening rain. As she half-ran away from James, Erin bitterly thought that the weather should have been an omen. So much for being an English student and not noticing pathetic fallacy when it hit her in the face. 

“Erin!”

James eventually caught up to her and clapped his hand on her shoulder. Erin finally stopped and turned around - her face nearly broke his heart. Her lower lip was trembling and her cheeks were shiny with tears.  
“Look,” her voice wobbled. “I don’t want to hear ‘I told you so’, I really don’t.”  
“I wouldn’t-“  
“I know I shouldn’t have got my hopes up again, it was so stupid to think that anyone like John-Paul O’Reilly would ever want to date someone like me.”

James could practically feel his hackles rise. “And what do you mean, someone like you? You’re worth ten of him.”  
She snorted through the tears. “Catch yourself on.”  
“No, I’m serious. He’s let you down three times now-“  
“Yeah, I don’t need a reminder.”  
“-so when you say ‘someone like him’, what you actually mean is that you’re a good person and he’s a, he’s a... he’s a twat.”

Erin raised her eyebrows when James swore. “Wow. You really mean business.”  
He rolled his eyes. “Well, it’s true.”  
They both stood in silence for a second. Then her face crumpled. “I feel so stupid.”  
“Come here.”

James reached his arms out to her and she immediately fell into him, crying into his denim jacket as he wrapped her up. 

“You’re worth more than him. You’re worth a hundred of him.”


	4. family dinner

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> quick lil prompt based on the final lines of my other fic which u should definitely go and read right now x

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> granda joe is a superior character change my mind

James could feel his knees weakening. He nervously smoothed down his hair, then shoved his hand in his pocket when he noticed it was trembling.   
No. That looked scruffy.   
In his other hand he held a bottle of wine.   
Did the Quinns like wine?  
Of course.  
What if it was bad wine? Oh God, what was he- 

The door swung open and he plastered a smile on his face.   
“James!”   
Erin smiled nervously. Thank God she was as scared as he was.   
At least she looked lovely, wearing a pink stripy top and short black skirt. Her cheeks were pink as well.  
“Christ, you look dapper.” Erin looked appreciatively at James’s suit. “I feel underdressed.”  
“You look great.”  
Erin breathed in deeply. “Nervous?”  
“A bit.”  
“Don’t be. My family already love you.”  
James leaned down to give her a peck on the lips.  
“Oi, you, get your hands of my granddaughter!”

James immediately sprang back at the sound of Joe’s brash voice.   
“Sorry, um, J-Mr. Quinn, I was just-“  
“Oh Granda,” Erin rolled her eyes and kissed Joe on the cheek. “Leave him alone. Come on, we’ll go to the kitchen.”  
When Erin walked through, Joe leaned in close to James. “I’ve got my eye on you, boy.” 

James gulped.  
So this was what it felt like to be Gerry.


	5. mysterious singing neighbour

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> this is cute tbh

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> michelle michelle michelle

“Jesus Christ. Again?”  
Michelle dramatically threw her head back, almost spilling her wine in the process.  
“Ach, careful.” Erin reached out to steady her roommate’s glass, realising that she, too, was on the way to being drunk.

The source of Michelle’s complaints was a recurring problem that the two faced at their new apartment. As young women with shitty jobs and uni debts to pay off, they decided that sharing a tiny, matchbox sized apartment in Dublin was the best option. And, to be fair, since moving in they’d had a great time decorating and rearranging. And having frequent wine-and-takeaway nights, such as this night.  
However.  
The catch.  
The walls were thin. Almost paper thin, in fact. 

Their neighbour seemed to be a huge fan of singing. Not just singing, but belting. Since moving in two weeks ago, every day without fail Erin and Michelle were treated to their own personal concert from the mysterious neighbour whom they were yet to meet. Erin found it quite endearing. Michelle, less so.  
“That prick needs to shut his pie hole,” she muttered crossly, taking a large swing of red wine to punctuate her sentence.  
“Ach, give over,” Erin slurred her words slightly. “He’s not half bad.”  
“That is NOT the point. If I wanted to listen to music twenty seven-four, I’d have a portable radio.”  
“It’s twenty four-seven. And you do. It’s an iPhone.”  
“Exactly!” Red wine sloshed onto the hardwood flooring. “And do I play my music all the time? Fucking NO. So why does this prick think he has the RIGHT to sing through our thin fucking walls? It’s, like, human rights.” 

Erin took a sip of her wine thoughtfully. She could quite clearly hear her neighbour belting out a song. Was that Whitney Houston?  
“I’ll talk to him.”  
Michelle hiccuped. “What?”  
Erin got up from the sofa and swayed slightly. “I’ll ask him to be quiet.”

And that’s how she found herself, at 11p.m. on a Saturday night, stood outside her neighbour’s apartment, fairly intoxicated and ready to have a row on Michelle’s behalf.  
She knocked.  
The door opened. 

A tall figure looked down at her with light grey eyes. The first thing Erin noticed was his hair - slightly wet, which she assumed was from the shower, and amazingly dark and curly. He had a slight grin on his angular yet somehow childish face.  
There was no way around it.  
The mysterious neighbour was fit.

“Can I help you?” he asked with an English accent, no hint of sarcasm.  
Erin realised her mouth was open.  
“Um, yes actually,” she focused on not slurring her words. “Me and my... well, I live just, I live just next door, and I was...”  
She trailed off. He smiled.  
“You were what?”  
“Um.”  
Shit. Why was she there?  
“Sorry. Nothing. Sorry.” 

Blushing furiously, she turned and walked, head in the air, to her apartment. What she didn’t realised was that her neighbour was staring after her, still smiling.


	6. storm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> james and erin cuddle during a summer storm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i, too, want erin quinn to comfort me during a storm

Erin jolted awake. For a split second, her room was illuminated with silver light as lightning crackled across the sky outside her window. A groan of thunder followed, seeming to surround her house.

She wasn’t scared of storms, merely irritated that she had been woken. Rubbing her eyes, Erin sat up slightly. She could see Orla stretched across the floor next to her bed, swaddled in blankets. Clare and Michelle were cuddled up on the spare double mattress, Clare curled up with her head on her companion’s arm; Michelle looked frankly adorable in her sleep, something that Erin would never dream of repeating to her terrifying best friend.  
The girls had decided to have a sleepover to celebrate the beginning of the summer holidays, which of course had begun with a depressing storm. They had spent the afternoon watching crappy TV and eating fish and chips, although James had abstained from that choice of food and instead opted for toast.  
Where was James? 

Waking up more, Erin saw that his sleeping bag, squashed in by the door, was empty. She peered into her gloomy bedroom, her eyes still adjusting, and saw that he was sat on her windowsill, his arms wrapped around his knees.  
He didn’t look sleepy in the slightest. He looked scared.  
“James?” Erin’s whisper sounded too loud to her ears.  
James jumped and looked wildly around until his gaze landed on the sleepy Erin.  
“Oh, um,” he looked sheepish. “Couldn’t sleep. Go back to bed.”

The room was so cold and Erin was so tired that she considered it for a second, until another bolt of lightning flashed and thunder rattled the windowsill. She saw James jump again and wrap his arms tighter around his legs.  
“Come here,” she rasped. James hesitated, then crept over Orla and sat on Erin’s bed.  
“You don’t like storms?”  
“No,” he whispered. “Never have. Don’t tell Michelle.”  
Erin snorted quietly. “Obviously not.”

James still looked nervous, perched on the edge of Erin’s bed. He yawned self-consciously.  
“Do you... want to sleep in my bed?”  
What? What was she doing?  
“Um.”  
“You don’t have to,” she added hastily. “I just thought-“  
“I mean-“  
“If you think you might feel better.”  
“Okay... the sleeping bag wasn’t very comfy, so-“  
“Yeah, yeah, of course, sure.”  
Slightly awkwardly, James scrambled into her bed, still lying as far away from Erin as possible.  
Lighting. Thunder. Erin could feel James tense up.  
God, she was too tired for formalities.  
“Just, just come here.”

Erin pulled him closer towards her. After hesitating slightly, James relented and let her cuddle into him. 

They lay together, his head nestled into her shoulder with her arm around him, until she could feel his breathing become even and she knew he was asleep.  
Before she knew it, she dropped off as well. 

When Erin would wake next, it would be morning, and she would not be prepared to face three pairs of incredulous eyes staring at her and the wee English fella curled up together in her twin bed.


	7. “we are so going to get caught”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> james and erin get caught in rather a compromising position by one legendary lesbian

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as u can tell i love angry scary michelle  
> did i mention i love michelle? i love michelle

“We are so going to get caught.”  
“No, shh, we’ll be fine!”  
James finally seemed distracted by Erin’s hands creeping under his shirt as she kissed under his jaw.  
“Oh, God... let’s just, fuck, let’s just be careful?”  
“Yeah, yeah, whatever.”

The gang were, for once, at the Mallon household. Mary was conducting a very intense spring-clean and had ordered everybody to leave the house, effective immediately. Gerry was at work anyway, Auntie Sarah had taken this opportunity to go on a ‘much needed’ shopping spree - “Sure, I am absolutely desperate for a whole new wardrobe, Mary” - and Granda Joe had taken the baby out in the pram for a long ramble. Erin, Orla, Clare, James and Michelle were herded out of the house straight after school and so had been forced to occupy Michelle and James’s place whilst Deirdre was at work. 

Whilst listening to Take That and eating sweets in Michelle’s room (under the guise of ‘doing homework’), Erin had said she was going to get some snacks. James was the only one who clocked the look she shot his way before she left the bedroom. 

That was how they ended up in the kitchen, Erin perched on the countertop, James stood between her legs, kissing like their lives depended on it.  
Sneaking around behind the group’s back had felt deeply wrong at first, especially to Erin, who hated keeping things from her friends and was frankly crap at lying, but had quickly become a fun little secret. Although they were yet to go ‘all the way’, as Erin primly put it, the two managed to fill their very limited alone time with aggressive make-out sessions and cuddles. Erin was still reeling that she had a boyfriend - even if he was English and secret. 

She focused on pulling James closer to her, attaching their mouths together. His large hands gripped her waist as hers moved up to card through his curls. God, she loved this.  
“What the fuck is going on?!”

James reeled back so quickly that he tripped and landed straight on his bum. Erin jumped down from the counter, guilty as sin, almost stepping on James’s leg in the process.

Clare stood in the doorway of the kitchen, mouth hanging wide open.  
“Clare!” Erin shouted, then decided to lower her voice. She started babbling quietly, so quickly that James could barely understand her. “Clare, do not tell Michelle, I am literary begging you, do not tell Michelle, or my Mam, or Deirdre, nothing’s even going on, I swear, we were just-“  
“Just what?” Clare still looked like she’d been electrocuted.  
“I-I-“ Erin desperately looked at James, who was still on the floor, for inspiration.  
“We were-“ she trailed off. “Okay, it is what it looks like, but Clare please don’t, DON’T, tell Michelle.”  
“Tell me what?”

All three looked around. Michelle stood at the foot of the stairs.


	8. mistletoe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a modern office party au bc i’m sad

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i’ve been watching a lot of mad men recently so the only job i could think of when i saw the word office was an advertising company oops

It was December 17th, and the office party was in full swing. 

Erin had spent a large portion of her night drinking very bad wine and dancing with Clare, brushing off questions asking if they were a couple. Since Clare had come out, their over-bearing boss Mrs. Michael was determined to show off her inclusivity policy and took an alarming amount of interest in Clare’s dating life. 

Whilst working at a small advertising company was not Erin’s long term plan, it was a job she enjoyed. Working on the ‘creative’ team with Michelle, her work bestie, and Orla, her housemate, meant that her work days were full of laughter and bitching and gossiping and frivolity. Clare worked in the accounting department, but was Michelle’s housemate, which led to the four of them becoming firm friends when Erin joined the company. The job was fairly well-paid, the hours weren’t awful and Erin got on with most of the people she worked with. 

Apart from one.

James Maguire. Mrs. Michael’s personal assistant. 

When Erin had first started three months ago, she was determined to make a good impression on everyone she met, just in case she really did end up running the company one day. On her second day, she saw a tall, curly-haired man buckling under a pile of paperwork, jabbing at the coffee machine. As soon as she introduced herself (“Hi, I’m Erin Quinn, creative. I’ve just started!”), the man hurriedly said that his names was James Maguire before practically sprinting off.   
Since then, every time Erin came into contact with him, he seemed to try and avoid her or acted like it was painful to uphold a conversation with her. Frankly, Erin found it rude and irritating.   
But damn, if he wasn’t an attractive bugger.  
Michelle immediately wrote him off as a ‘stuck-up arsehole’, whilst Clare constructed some sort of alternate universe where he ignored Erin because he secretly loved her and was too awkward to say anything. Orla, as usual, was too lost in her own world to have any valuable input. 

The Christmas party was no different. Whilst dancing to Come On Eileen with the girls, pretending they were at a real party venue and not just the office decked out in tinsel and lights, Erin caught James looking at her intensely, before quickly turning his head.  
Weirdo.  
Handsome weirdo, though. 

“Mistletoe time!”   
Michelle’s brash voice hollered through the room as she danced around holding a sprig of mistletoe, and everyone whistled and whooped. Erin was too tipsy and out of breath to notice the wink she gave Clare.   
“Erin,” she yelled. “This is yours. Hold it above your head and shut your eyes.”  
“That isn’t how it-“  
“Just do it! Don’t be a prick.”  
Erin sighed, grabbed the mistletoe and shut her eyes. Michelle started spinning her around - she figured she’d probably end up kissing Orla, or one of the guys from accounts, which was absolutely fine. Whatever. 

Suddenly, whistles and whoops rang out around the room. Erin opened her eyes.   
Michelle had spun her round to face James. James Maguire.   
Shit.  
“Oiiiiiiiii,” Michelle laughed uproariously as Clare whooped. Even Orla seemed captivated. The whole office was jeering and whistling. Michelle began a chant. “Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!”

Erin looked up. James was staring at her with those big grey eyes. He smiled slightly. He looked much nicer when he smiled.   
“You okay with this?” he whispered.   
Shit. “Uh, yeah. Sure. It’s just mistletoe.”  
He grinned. “Just mistletoe.”

James leaned down and kissed her. Erin’s world stopped.   
Holy Mary mother of God.


	9. “your eyes have a little green in them”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 10 things i hate about you party scene but make it derry girls

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> jenny joyce party time

There was no denying it. Erin was drunk.

On Wednesday, Jenny Joyce had ceremoniously announced to the year group that she was having another party. Despite Michelle’s grumblings (“Stupid bitch doesn’t even drink”) and Clare’s protests (“You do realise we have a big English exam coming up and we promised we’d revise this weekend?”), the gang knew there was no question about going.  
Erin graciously decided to treat this party with a touch more decorum than she had last time, where she was kicked out for calling Katya a prostitute. This time, she would be graceful and fun and definitely not cause any drama. 

Well. That had lasted long. 

Not even an hour in to the party, Erin found herself stood on a table surrounded by onlookers, dancing to Cotton Eyed Joe, waving a bottle of vodka (stolen from Michelle) above her head.  
She was killing it!  
She was a great dancer! She knew all the moves! She-  
Ow.  
Erin’s head cracked against the low-hanging light and, with a collective groan from her audience, she crumpled backwards. Or, she would have, if someone hadn’t been there to catch her. 

James buckled slightly under Erin’s full weight as he struggled to support her drunken frame. He half carried, half dragged her out of the room, Michelle, Clare and Orla hot on his heels.  
“Fuck yeah!” Michelle was ecstatic, nicking the vodka from Erin’s limp hand. “Erin, you dance like a prick but you’re a fucking legend, my friend.”  
“Michelle!” a very sober Clare hissed incredulously. “She could have a concussion!”  
“Aye, so what.”  
“Erin, you’re a cracker dancer,” Orla shouted. Judging by the state of her face, Jenny had mistakenly brought out the chocolate fountain again. “You’ve gotta teach me some moves!”  
“Aye, sure,” Erin slurred. James huffed and held her upright.  
“We’re going outside. You lot carry on, I’ll look after her.”  
Michelle and Orla seemed more than happy to oblige. Clare hung back, looking anxious.  
“Clare, don’t worry,” James said, his breath coming out in puffs now they were outside in the cold. “She’s fine.”  
Erin groaned and flopped onto the grass.  
Clare looked dubious.  
“I’ve got her, okay?”  
“Fine, I’ll come back out in ten minutes. Make sure she doesn’t fall asleep.”

James managed to haul Erin onto a swing at the back of Jenny’s massive garden. She rested her forehead against the cold metal and seemed slightly sheepish.  
“Thanks for... carrying me?”  
James snorted. “Dragging you is more like it.”  
He thought that, even in her drunken state, Erin was still beautiful. Her hair was almost silver in the moonlight. And her eyes...  
Shit, she’d shut her eyes.  
“Erin! Erin, come on, wake up, wakey wakey.”  
He lifted her head up. She stared up at him with hooded eyes.  
She smiled softly.  
“Your eyes have a little green in them.”  
His breath caught. His heart sped up. 

Then Erin leaned forward and vomited all over James’s shoes.


	10. t-shirt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> michelle finds a t-shirt that definitely isn’t erin’s in her wardrobe

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is short and stupid but i like writing the gang when they’re all just chilling

“Fuck this.”  
Michelle threw her pen down in defeat. It was 9p.m. and the gang were cramming for their English test in the morning. Erin had put her foot down and banned Clare from staying up all night chugging energy drinks, and had said that the cut-off point for revising at her house was 11 at the latest.  
So far, they hadn’t made much progress. Erin, a self-proclaimed English genius, had read the same line of the Keats poem she was studying about 50 times. Clare was scaring James with her ferociously-paced writing, and she kept snatching the textbook they were sharing off him whenever he tried to turn a page. Orla was writing her own story (despite the exam being on poetry), and Michelle had given up. Although, giving up implies that she was trying in the first place. 

She stood up off the floor and cracked her back, before walking to the window. The sun was only just starting to go down, despite the time.  
“This is fucking depressing. We should be out there, getting plastered and boking our brains out, but instead we’re revising for a fucking English exam. It’s insanity.”  
Before Clare could start hissing her usual, premeditated angry response, Michelle gave her the finger. She started wandering around Erin’s room agitatedly. 

Erin barely noticed when the black-haired girl started rummaging through her wardrobe, until her sarcastic voice jerked her out of her Keats-induced stupor.  
“And what, pray tell, is this?”  
Michelle was holding up a grey t-shirt. Erin went cold.  
“It’s uh, a shirt.”  
Michelle smirked. “It’s a boy’s shirt.”  
James gulped.  
“N-no it isn’t,” Erin protested.  
“Aye, it is.” Orla interjected. Erin glared at her. Even Clare was interested enough to stop furiously scribbling in her book.  
“Why,” Michelle said deviously. “Have you got a boy’s t-shirt in your wardrobe, Erin?”

Shit. How had she not noticed it was James’s? They were blown. 

Before Erin could stammer a reply, James snatched it out of Michelle’s hands.  
“It’s mine.”  
What the fuck? What the fuck?  
“I left it here the last time we all stayed over.”  
Thank God.  
“Yeah, Michelle,” Erin snorted. She could feel that her palms were clammy. “As if I’d have a boy in here and not tell you.”  
Michelle didn’t seem convinced, but thankfully she dropped it. 

Clare, however, looked at James suspiciously. He hurriedly turned a page in the textbook and prayed that his cheeks weren’t too red.


	11. our lady’s coffee shop

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> lil coffee shop au where james, michelle and clare all work together. sorry orla does not exist in this fic for some reason

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> erin being a mysterious coffee shop customer in the 90s that james is in love with is an absolute vibe

“James. James!”  
James jumped and turned around. A tiny, blonde girl stood behind him with her hands on her hips, looking at him disapprovingly.   
“Shit, Clare.”  
Clare shook her head as she continued emptying the glass wash. “You need to get a grip, James. There’s no point pining after a customer.”   
James turned back around and rested his head on his hand, propped up by his elbow on the counter.   
Working at Our Lady’s coffee house was an okay job. His manager was fine, he got free coffee, and he was always put on shift with Clare. When he’d first met Clare four months ago, he was slightly terrified. She was very unassuming at four foot eleven, yet her constantly rising stress levels and impeccable organisation cut a scary figure. Over time, however, James grew to like her a lot; Clare was hilarious and fiercely loyal, and always helped him out when he got stuck on how to make a latté or a particularly complicated cappuccino.  
“Ach, for fuck’s sake, is he whining about Coffee Girl again? No offence, but she is way out of your league.”  
Michelle, on the other hand.   
Michelle was James’s cousin, and she had got him this part-time job, against her will (her mother was insistent that she somehow got James hired, if only to get him out the house on the weekends). Her abrasive attitude and unexplained hatred towards her cousin did not stop at home, but carried on into the workplace. 

James sighed. “Shut up, Michelle. She will come in today, just wait.”  
“Catch yourself on, you saddo. There’s been barely anyone in today.”   
Clare rolled her eyes and prodded at James’s back until he started wiping the counter. 

The mysterious customer that James was pining after was a girl. A very pretty girl with long blonde hair, big green eyes and an adorable snub nose. ‘Coffee Girl’, as Michelle had dubbed her, came in every Saturday at 2:00pm (on her lunch break apparently), and James was absolutely infatuated. 

He almost gave up, sick of the lack of customers and Michelle’s sarcastic remarks, when suddenly the bell on the door tinkled. James started and his elbow slipped off the counter. Michelle snorted loudly, and Clare tutted as she disappeared into the back room. 

Coffee Girl was wearing a too-large blue denim jacket and bright pink headphones around her neck, her blonde hair tousled by the wind. She hardly looked up from the tattered book she was reading as she approached the counter; James was secretly thankful for this, because she wouldn’t be able to see his flustered demeanour or Michelle’s raised eyebrow.   
“H-hi,” he stammered. “What can I get you today?”  
She looked up distractedly. “Uh, a black coffee with two sugars to go, please.” Her Derry accent was thick and enchanting. She paid for the drink, barely looking at James. 

As Coffee Girl waited at the end of the counter, still reading, James busied himself making her drink. Michelle opened her mouth, but James cut her off.  
“Fuck off. Just fuck off. Go and do something.”  
“You can’t tell me what to do, you prick.” She smirked. “I dare ya to put your number on her cup.”   
James blushed. “No way.”  
“Why not? Don’t be a pussy.”  
“No. Not happening. She doesn’t even notice me.”  
“Fucking hell.” 

James finished the coffee and slid it down to her.   
“Thank you.” She looked up from her book and smiled, a beaming, sunny smile. James’s heart stopped.   
As she went to walk out of the door, James exhaled.   
Suddenly. Michelle. Fucking Michelle.  
“Oi!”  
“Michelle,” James hissed. “Stop. Now.”  
“Oi, you!”

Coffee Girl turned around confusedly. “Me?”  
“Yeah, you. Do you want to go out with James some time?”  
James was rooted to the spot. He felt like he might die. Maybe he was dead. Maybe this was Hell?  
“Um...”  
“Ach, go on,” Michelle grinned. “He’s nice really.”  
Coffee Girl stared at James. “Sure.”

What?   
What the fuck?

She walked back into the shop. “Do you have a spare cup?”   
James couldn’t move. Michelle shoved an unused paper cup at Coffee Girl, looking wickedly pleased. 

Coffee Girl scribbled something on the cup and placed it in James’s hand, who was still petrified. “See you soon.” She smiled, and left.   
What the fuck just happened?

He looked down at the cup. She’d left a number with a note. 

Erin Quinn. Call me x


	12. chicken soup

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> short sick fic bc it’s cute except it isn’t really a sick fic bc it’s mostly james and ma mary dialogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> james making poorly soup for erin? sorry i dropped all my uwus

Ma Mary had just recovered from holding Erin’s hair back during her last bout of vomiting, and was ready to settle down in front of the telly with a cup of tea without Sarah or her dad getting in the way (they were at the cinema with Orla), when the doorbell rang.  
“Oh, for-“ she took a deep breath. It was probably Gerry, having forgotten his house keys yet again. She hauled herself up, quickly checked on the baby in it’s cot, and begrudgingly opened the front door.  
It was the wee English fella.  
“Hi, Mrs. Quinn.”  
Ma Mary was surprised, but pleasantly so. “Ach, James! What’re you doing here? Come in, love.” She ushered him in, noting he had a big covered bowl in his hands.  
“Orla told me Erin was sick,” he said as he respectfully toed off his shoes. “I’ve brought her some soup, if that’s okay?”  
Mary’s heart swelled. She tried very hard not to show James how happy that made her. “Ach, love. That’s very sweet of you. Shall we go and heat it up for her?”

Mary busied herself with putting the bowl of soup (a good-looking chicken broth, she noted) into a saucepan on the stove. She decided to be as inconspicuous as possible when questioning the wee fella. He looked so nervous sat at her kitchen table.  
“So, love. How’s things?”  
“Good thank you, Mrs. Quinn.”  
“Ach, love, call me Mary. It’s very nice of you to bring this for our Erin.”  
“Well, I just wanted to, um, check on her.”  
“Did Deirdre make this soup?”  
“Uh, no, I made it. But I used her recipe book.” He looked worried. “I hope it’s nice.”  
Mary’s heart melted. “Aye, love, it smells lovely.” She considered for a moment. “Do you-do you want to take it to her? She might be asleep, but I’m sure you could leave it on her cabinet?”  
“Okay, Mrs. Quinn.”

As James carefully carried the soup upstairs, Mary considered him. He really was sweet. His nationality aside, she firmly decided that she would be fine with Erin and James becoming an item. In fact, she would actively encourage it. 

Mary’s heart would have certainly melted even further if she were to see the loving look that the wee English fella gave to his sleeping more-than-friend, or the gentle stroke he gave her golden hair that was matted on the pillow - or even the kiss that he placed on her sweaty forehead. 

James smiled at Erin’s flushed, sleeping form. “Get well soon.”


	13. memories

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the girls find a photo album, nostalgia ensues

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is adorable and the premise made me smile

“Girls! Look what I found!”  
Michelle wobbled her way over to the group, holding a large, leather-bound book.   
Clare squinted over her glass of wine. “What is it?”  
“Photo album from the nineties!”  
There was a collective gasp.   
“No way,” Erin scrambled over James and Orla on the sofa to snatch the book from Michelle’s hands, who was too tipsy and good-natured to mind.

It was the year 2010, and the girls were having their monthly meeting at Michelle’s flat. All of them were now in their middle thirties - realistically, life had got in the way of their ‘together forever’ plan, but they had managed to stay in contact and saw each other as regularly as possible.   
Currently, all five of them were crowded into Michelle’s place. Orla and James assumed their usual positions next to each other, Clare was sat on a bean bag that Michelle had thrown haphazardly into the living room, and Erin was sat on the arm of the sofa next to James. Everyone was tipsy, and everyone was happy. 

Erin began flipping through the pages.   
“Jesus Christ,” she snorted. Everyone crowded around her, Orla resting her pointy chin on her cousin’s shoulder. “Look at the state of me!”  
The picture she was referring to was a blurry one of her and Michelle at some sort of gig, pouting and leaning in close together. Michelle cringed. “Ach, look at my hair!”  
Her hair certainly was wild in the photo, contrasting with her darkly tanned skin. Erin continued flipping.  
Orla in her hunting gear. Granda Joe and Erin. Michelle and James posing in school uniform reluctantly. Orla, Erin and Michelle sat on a bench in the sun. Clare with a pride flag around her shoulders. Auntie Sarah and Michelle smoking in the Quinn kitchen. The whole gang asleep in a tent, from a picture that Mary took on a camping trip.   
Then-  
“Oh, Christ.” Michelle looked away. “I’m gonna boke.”

The next photo was slightly out of focus and too dark, but everyone could see who it was. James, with the short curly hair her spotted throughout the nineties, leaned in so his forehead touched Erin’s. Even from a low-quality photo, the affection they had for each other was palpable. Clare was able to be faintly defined in the background, as well as Michelle making a vaguely disgusted face.   
The photo was full of love.   
“That was just after we got together,” James said faintly. Erin didn’t reply, but slowly stroked her finger over the picture.   
Michelle fake gagged. “Eugh. Don’t be so sappy.” Orla laughed joyfully.   
Clare hit her arm playfully. “Ach, shut up Michelle, it’s cute.”

Erin and James hardly noticed. She looked up at her husband’s face, the face that she knew so well.   
“I love you,” she whispered.   
“I love you too.”   
“Seriously, I am going to boke any second now.”


	14. “don’t get hurt”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which james has a date and erin doesn’t. this one is normal derry girls timeline btw so still in the 90s

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oof i’m in my feels for one sided attraction

“Why’s he putting so much shit in his hair?”  
Erin whacked at Michelle’s arm as she collapsed into giggles. “Shh! He’ll hear.”  
Erin and Michelle were crouched outside of the bathroom at Michelle’s house, peeking around the door, which was slightly ajar. James was stood in front of the mirror, dousing his hair in what looked like almost an entire tub of gel.  
Erin winced. “It looks like he’s dipped his head in water.”  
“In grease more like,” Michelle whispered, finally standing up. “Dickhead. I’m bored now, come on.”  
They headed downstairs and flopped on the sofa. After a moment of quiet, Erin gave in to her curiosity.  
“Where’s he going? He never usually puts that much effort in, or uses that much gel.”  
Michelle smirked. “Apparently he’s got a hot date. I don’t believe him, but the little prick is pretty insistent.”  
Erin’s heart flipped over. She tried to stay cool. “Oh. Really? With who?”  
Michelle wrinkled her nose. “Someone from school. Think it’s Hannah? You know, big Hannah? Big slaggy Hannah?”  
Erin nodded, dumbfounded. Fuck. 

She’d repressed her feelings for James for a while. Sure, sometimes he still felt like an annoying little brother, and sometimes he was an unwelcome presence - but, for the majority of the time now, she liked being around him. She thought about him a lot. She liked the way his jacket felt on her shoulders when it was cold and he was being gentlemanly. She liked his stupid accent that everyone made fun of. She liked how polite he was in front of her family. She liked that he was quite a few inches taller than her so he could rest his chin on her head, even thought she pretended it annoyed her.  
The thought of him doing that with another girl made her sick.

He clattered down the stairs whilst Michelle was flicking through the channels, not noticing that Erin was sat in silence.  
“All ready for your hot date?” Michelle asked sarcastically.  
“Yes actually, so piss off. Erin, do you want me to walk you home or are you going to leave later?”  
Erin gulped. “Um, yeah sure. Bye, Chelle.”  
Michelle barely noticed her friend and her cousin leaving. 

It was a short walk to Erin’s house. They walked in comfortable silence for a while until Erin unblocked her throat and spoke up.  
“So. Hannah?”  
“Hah. Yeah.”  
“You feeling okay?”  
“Yes, actually. I’m looking forward to it.”  
“What’re you doing?”  
“Just cinema and bowling. She’s really nice.”  
Erin looked away. “Good. I’m glad she’s nice.”

They were at her front gate.  
“Well,” James smiled at her. His face was illuminated by the yellow lamp light. “See you. I’ll let you know how it goes!”  
“Okay,” Erin grinned. It was the fakest grin she’d ever plastered onto her face.  
As he walked away, she called after him. Fuck. What was she doing?

“James?”  
He turned back.  
“Yeah?”  
Erin took a deep breath.  
“I... Have a good time. Don’t... don’t get hurt.”  
He looked puzzled. “Why would I get hurt?”  
Erin paused, then scoffed as if she was joking. “No reason! Ignore me. Have a good time.”  
She turned and practically sprinted into her house.  
James’s brow furrowed. He turned and walked away.


	15. “you’re in love with her”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the gang goes to david donnelley’s gig and it doesn’t go the way james wants it to

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sad james is sad

Erin had finally plucked up the courage to go to one of David Donnelley’s gigs. The music was shit, none of the gang could get served alcohol (not that Michelle was bothered about that when she had her trusty bottle of vodka in her bag), but Erin was obviously having the time of her life, dancing away at the front. 

After David’s band finished playing, he jumped down from the stage and led Erin to a corner of the packed venue. The look on her face was pure glee, and as they walked away from the stage she turned back to the gang, he’s chin pushed into her neck as she grinned goofily. “Oh, my God!” she mouthed silently.   
The rest of the girls stood together by the bar. Michelle shook her head. “She’s such a dick. He just wants to get in her pants.”   
Clare was the only one who noticed James tense slightly at Michelle’s comment.   
Getting bored, Orla followed Michelle out for a smoke and a cruise for some rideable boys. James was left at the bar with Clare. As he stared at Erin on the other side of the venue, giggling and playing with her hair at something evidently amusing David had said, he didn’t notice Clare staring at him.   
“Why do you keep looking at Erin?”  
James was so distracted by Erin’s wide eyes and enamoured smile that he almost didn’t register Clare. “What? Sorry. What did you say?”

Clare didn’t reply. James finally looked at her, confused.  
“You’re in love with her.”  
James looked away. “No, I’m- what? No I’m not. Don’t be silly.”  
“I’m not. James, be honest with me. Look at me.” 

David was leaning in towards Erin. James could see her hands clenched in a fist, twisting her skirt nervously. His chest felt tight.   
“James?”   
He looked at Clare defeatedly.  
“Okay. Fine. I am. Happy?”  
Clare looked taken aback. “No, I-“  
James continued bitterly. “But she’s never going to look at me the way she looks at him.”

They both looked over. David had his hand on Erin’s jaw; they were kissing, in their own little world.   
James sighed, and went to find Michelle and her vodka.


	16. “you’re wearing my jacket”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> cute little fluff with our fav awkward teens

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> things we love to see: james’s denim jacket making another cameo

“You’re wearing my jacket.”  
Erin started and looked down at her outfit. She was, in fact, wearing James’s denim jacket, complete with its warm fur lining.  
“Oh,” she looked back up at him. “I am. Sorry, I thought it was mine, you must have left it in my room. Hang on, I’ll go and get mine.” 

Just as she turned to go back in the house, James grabbed her arm. Erin looked down at his hand; James quickly removed it, blushing.  
“Wear it.” he said, smiling shyly.   
“Really?”  
“Yeah. It suits you.”   
She grinned, also blushing. “Okay. Thanks.”

They started walking down the street towards the café. Erin started talking about something to do with school; James watched her mouth move, but wasn’t really listening. He was thinking about her in his jacket, which was far too big for her, the smell of his cologne clinging to her clothes. It looked so right to him, her fingers peeking out the ends of the sleeved, the fur bunching up around her chin. 

Erin stopped talking and giggled nervously. “Why’re you looking at me like that?”  
James came out of his jacket-induced trance. “Uh, sorry, no reason. Carry on.”  
Erin looked at him oddly, then carried on her story. James smiled as she pulled his jacket tighter around her.


	17. scary film

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> trope where one person is really into scary/gory films and the other isn’t? check

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> from dusk till dawn came out in 1996 which is around when derry girls is set so i love the idea of michelle somehow illegally getting a copy of it for james and erin

“Do we really have to watch this?”  
“Yes, we really do.”  
James and Erin were tucked up on the sofa in the Quinn living room. Mary and Gerry were having a rare night out, and Granda had decided to take Sarah, Orla and the baby to bingo for some reason. Erin and James had the house to themselves, so naturally they took full advantage of the telly being free.   
Or rather, Erin did. 

Michelle had somehow managed to wrangle them a copy of the new film ‘From Dusk till Dawn’ - despite the fact that it had only just come out. James thought better than to ask his cousin how she had got her hands on it. Michelle had already watched it with her dad and was obsessed with it, and had lent it to Erin. Now, she was forcing James to watch it, who definitely did not like gore or horror or anything along those lines. 

As Erin set up the film, James nervously looked at the DVD case.   
“This looks scary.”  
“Ach, don’t be a baby.”  
He tried another tactic.  
“There’s a lot of blood. Tarantino films have a lot of blood in them.”  
“Tarantino didn’t direct this, he just stars in it and did the screenplay.”  
“Oh, that’s okay then.” James said sarcastically. He resigned himself to his fate as Erin joined him on the sofa and snuggled up next to him. He took a deep breath. 

Half an hour in, and James was hiding under their shared blanket. Normally, he would find it embarrassing that he, a manly man, was hiding from George Clooney and Quentin Tarantino shooting a load of people whilst his girlfriend watched in awe, but he was too scared to care.   
“Oh, James, you’re missing it!” Erin said gleefully. “Come on, stop being silly.”  
James poked his head out of the blanket just as a particularly bloody image flashed on screen.  
“Nope. Not happening.”

Erin laughed and kissed the top of his head through the blanket.   
“Ach, I promise we can watch ‘Groundhog Day’ later.”


	18. gone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> james has died and erin has nothing left

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oof this made me really sad i obviously just love torturing myself   
> my assumption for this is that erin and james had just recently confessed their love to each other then something happened that killed james, i’ll let u all decide what that was

A continuous cycle of cups of tea were left on Erin’s bedside cabinet, ignored and stone-cold every time Mary came in with a fresh one.   
Gerry routinely came into Erin’s room to watch his daughter lie on her bed, facing the wall, before touching her hair and leaving.   
Sarah waved a duster around the room occasionally, having never cleaned a day in her life, but needing an excuse to check on her niece.   
Joe sat with his granddaughter every morning, not speaking. Just holding her limp hand.   
Orla did not come in. Neither did Clare, neither did Michelle. They were all separate. Broken. 

Erin couldn’t speak, she could hardly breathe half the time. Her throat was too dry to eat or drink. She felt like there were no tears left in her body. Nothing left except a shell. 

The picture of her and James lay face down on her cabinet. 

Never again would she ruffle his curly hair, or roll her eyes at his whining, or make fun of his accent. She wouldn’t ever listen to Take That with him again. She wouldn’t ever walk to school with him again. She wouldn’t ever watch TV with her head on his shoulder again. 

She would never feel his lips against hers with that urgency she felt the first, and last, time he kissed her.   
It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered. Nothing would change, nothing would bring James Maguire back to her. 

He was gone, and with him was a part of her that would never return.


	19. pride & prejudice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> an au based on darcy’s second proposal to lizzy except make it derry girls

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> obvs james and erin are darcy and lizzy, orla is georgiana (even tho she has no lines in this) and michelle and clare are bingley and james bc fuck u i can 
> 
> this is a mess and really short but my EPQ is on pride & prejudice so that’s all i’m thinking about atm

“Clare!” Erin rushed through the main hall of Longbourne, the hem of her dress flying in tatters. “Clare, I have news!”  
She clattered into the bedroom, faced with a startled Clare sat on her bed.  
“Whatever is it, Erin?”  
Erin sat down next to her sister, barely able to contain her excitement. “Clare. I-I can hardly speak, I’m so happy!”  
“Well I’m glad of that, but do tell me why?”  
Erin took a deep breath and grasped her sister’s hands in her own. “James Maguire has asked for my hand in marriage.”  
Clare’s small hands escaped Erin’s and flew to her face. “That cannot be! You, you can hardly stand him! How is this true? Oh, Erin!”  
Erin was shaking her head gleefully. “Clare, I’ve been so blind. I like him, very much. I love him.”  
Clare still looked incredulous in the warm candle light, but eventually smiled. “All I can ask is that you are happy, Erin. I’ve found happiness with Michelle, and I would give all that away for you to feel the same.”  
Erin’s eyes glistened with tears as she threw her arms around her sister in a tight embrace. 

At Pemberley, James sat on the long sofa in his gallery as Michelle paced up and down. “And you’re quite sure about this?”  
James gave her a rare smile. “Very sure, Mallon.”  
Michelle stopped pacing and suddenly thrust her hand towards her friend. “Very well. I’m happy for you. More than happy. I’ve found the deepest happiness with Clare, so all I could ask is that you find the same with Erin.”  
James got up and hugged his friend. Michelle suddenly moved back. “Does Orla know?”  
James laughed wryly. “I haven’t told her yet, I think the happiness might kill her.”  
As he and Michelle left the gallery, James smiled to himself, thinking of Erin Quinn.

Far away, Erin prepared to ask her father’s approval. She thought of James Maguire, and smiled.


	20. notting hill

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> notting hill au in which james owns a bookshop and erin is a famous writer

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i hate the film notting hill but the premise is cute  
> i’m currently reading the cider house rules by john irving therefore james is also reading it  
> also i love joe orton and the odyssey so they get a special mention too

James watched morosely as the first and, so far, only customer left without buying anything. Mondays at the shop were always slow, but today was particularly rough. It was noon; the shop had been open since eight, and the only customer in that four hours had just left. The weather was damp and drizzly, and most people were at their jobs.  
Jobs that didn’t consist of running a tiny, failing bookshop. 

James loved his shop. He had always been an avid reader and, after completing an English degree, he decided to stay in London and open a bookshop on Notting Hill.  
At no point did he really comprehend just how expensive living in London was.  
His friend Clare had told him countless times that if he wanted to live in “an actual house and not an attic like some Romantic-era poet with tuberculosis”, he would have to get a “real job”.  
As he watched another person pass his little shop by with barely a glance, James started thinking that maybe Clare was right. 

After another hour of rearranging the shelves with no customers, James resigned himself to making a cup of tea and reading, his feet up on the counter. He cracked open a copy of The Cider House Rules and prepared for the next four hours until he could close.  
He was barely halfway through the first chapter when the doorbell tinkled, prompting James to clatter off his chair and spill what was left of his tea. 

Stood behind the counter self-consciously, James could see the customer. She was wearing a long, black coat with a fashionable matching beret. Unusually for the weather, she had a pair of small sunglasses covering her eyes, but James could see that her lips were a bright red colour. He was most transfixed by her hair, which was long and golden, standing out in the dingy light of the bookshop.  
As she browsed (a proper browse, James noticed, not just a skim), James couldn’t shake the feeling that he knew her from somewhere. He somehow concluded that, because she was the only customer, it was his duty to go and introduce himself to this very attractive and strangely familiar woman - only to see if she needed help, of course. 

He approached her as she perused the contents of the ‘Ancient Literature’ shelf; James had to clear his throat before the woman looked up from the tattered copy of The Odyssey that she was flicking through.  
Even with her sunglasses on, James couldn’t help but noticed how very attractive she was.  
“Yes?” she prompted with a small smile playing on her scarlet lips. James swallowed.  
“I, uh- I was just wondering, just going to ask if you, um, if you needed any assistance? Or, help, or recommendations?” He could feel himself babbling. Shut up, shut up! “I, uh, I own this shop, you see, and I um, just wanted to-“  
“I’m okay, but thank you.” She interrupted him, and he noticed that she had a thick, Derry accent. Who was she, and why did he feel like he knew her?  
James blushed. “Yes, of course. I’ll, ah, I’ll be at the counter so just, just give me a shout if you need anything!”  
“Thank you.” She had already turned back to her book.  
“Idiot,” he muttered to himself as he returned to the counter. 

After twenty minutes, the mystery woman was still in the shop, and James was no further through Dr. Larch and Homer Wells’s life stories than he was when she came in. He was too busy trying to work out where he had seen her, admittedly semi-obscured, face.  
“I know you!”  
Shit. The words came out before he could stop them.  
The woman looked up, startled, from the selected works of Joe Orton that she was reading. James immediately tried to rectify the situation. “Sorry, I’m so sorry, I just- I knew that I knew you. You’re Erin Quinn!”  
Erin Quinn looked down briefly, then looked back at James through her glasses. “That’s me. Wondered how long it would take for someone to recognise me today.”  
James felt mortified and also a little star-struck. “Sorry, I’m, I’m really sorry. I just-wow. I love your work.”  
He really did. Erin Quinn was a novelist from Derry whose series about a group of friends living during The Troubles had shot her to fame. Her work was popular among teenagers and adults alike, and James was a huge fan. He tried to play it cool as she took off her sunglasses, revealing big green eyes.  
“Thank you,” she said softly.  
“I’m James, by the way. James Maguire.”  
“Hi, James, I’m- shit. You know already.”  
James laughed. A pause.  
“So... Joe Orton?”  
Erin looked at the book in her hand. “Yeah, I love him.”  
James smiled. “Me too. I wrote my thesis at university on him.”

They talked for an hour, uninterrupted. James made her a cup of tea and invited her into the back room. He learnt that her favourite writer was Sarah Waters, she loathed Shakespeare, she loved Ancient literature, she lived with her best friend Michelle and her cousin Orla, and the papers were definitely wrong about her being married.

By the time they had drunk two cups of tea each, James was enamoured.  
Should he do it?  
No.  
But should he?  
Of course not.  
He watched her finish her cup of tea and look at her watch.  
“Oh, shit, I need to go, I have a meeting.  
I’ll just-“  
“Would you like to go out with me some time?”


	21. funny scones

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which the girls actually get stoned like they were planning to

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i just thought this was a cute idea bc i feel like erin’s inhibitions would be almost completely down (basically like me when i’m stoned oops except i don’t have a james to caress)

“Right. Girls. Let’s do this.”  
It was a Friday night after a long day at sixth form, and the girls were sat in a tight circle on Michelle’s bedroom carpet. In the centre was placed a Tupperware container. Inside said container were a batch of...  
“I don’t really know if we should be eating these funny scones,” Clare said nervously. “I mean, remember what happened last time?”  
Immediately, an image of the flooded bathroom, chunks of scone floating in the muck, resurfaced in all of their heads. Then, Michelle took charge again.  
“We are doing this, I worked way too hard on these fecking things to lose them again.”  
To punctuate her point, Michelle reached out and shoved the largest scone in her mouth. Clare stared at her in horror.  
“Michelle!”  
“Fucking hell, Clare, relax! Just try one.”  
Reluctantly, Clare pawed through the box to find the smallest and least conspicuous scone before gingerly breaking off a piece and putting it in her mouth. Orla grabbed one and ate it determinedly, and James exchanged a look with Erin before shrugging and doing the same.

Erin felt a thrill of excitement go through her. Drugs! They were doing drugs!   
She ate one before she could lose her nerve.   
“Nothing’s happening.” Erin said confusedly.   
“Yeah, just wait a bit,” Michelle said from her lying down position. “It’ll kick in soon.”  
Soon, Michelle had eaten three, Orla, James and Erin had eaten two each and Clare had finished off one and decided to leave it at that.   
They all sat solemnly waiting for something to happen.   
This is so boring, Erin thought.

*half an hour later*

Fucking hell.   
Erin couldn’t feel the roof of her mouth. Where was the roof of her mouth gone?   
“Erin,” Michelle’s voice was slow. “Stop fecking doing that with your tongue.”  
Orla was watching Erin with huge, huge eyes. Erin realised she was prising at the top of her mouth with her tongue, and suddenly collapsed into giggles.  
Clare seemed simultaneously very panicked and very relaxed. “I just feel so... oh my God, I feel weird.” Orla keeled over sideways to rest her head in Clare’s lap, which seemed somehow to ground her slightly. 

Erin moved her head very, very slowly. To her right was James. He hadn’t spoken since eating his funny scones and he was now lying down, opposite Michelle, looking up at the ceiling. Erin could see that he grey eyes were hooded, almost shut, and he had a small smile playing on his lips. In the light of the setting sun through Michelle’s window, his skin looked slightly golden. Erin wanted to touch it.   
She leaned over James, reached out her hand and touched his face. 

Instead of jerking back or looking at her weirdly, James fixed his unfocused gaze on her blonde girl hovering above him. He pushed his cheek into her hand, resting his face on its palm. Erin’s mouth opened slightly. She stroked her thumb over his cheekbone.   
“What the fuck are you doing?”   
Michelle’s voice piped up from besides the bed, sounding like it was a struggle to form sentences. Erin stayed her hand back and saw that Michelle, Clare and Erin were all staring at her and James.  
“Uh,” her mouth felt like it was made of cotton wool. “Nothing.”

Blushing, she looked back at James. He was still smiling lazily. He reached out and grabbed her hand with his own, pulling her down to lie next to him. She could feel his body heat through their clothes and it made her dizzy with want.   
The room swam, and Erin felt like she was flying.


	22. teacher au

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> erin is an english teacher and james is a maths teacher - and it turns out all the students at their school ship them

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is set in an english high school (bc i myself am english) so apologies if the year group system doesn’t make sense to anyone  
> erin’s classroom is based on my gcse english teacher’s room lmao   
> also michelle as a PE teacher is my new obsession for some reason

“Now, can anyone tell me what form is used when Romeo and Juliet meet for the first time at the Capulet ball?”  
Erin Quinn was met with a deathly silence from her Year Eleven English class.  
She sighed internally but managed to keep a smile on her face; lesson one on a Monday was always a challenge.  
“Come on, one of you must know? This is revision now guys, we did this last term! You should know this!”

Erin loved her job. Teaching English had always been her dream, ever since she was a young girl living in the middle of nowhere in Derry. Moving to England for university had been a huge culture shock, but she learned to love the country and the people in it. Now, six years after completing her PGCE to teach high school students, she was a happily single English nerd who loved to teach Shakespeare to reluctant children. Her classroom was brightly coloured, covered in posters with inspirational quotes from famous authors - a group of the cute little Year Sevens in her form group had helped her to make a Romeo and Juliet display, complete with fake roses twining up the walls.  
“It’s a sonnet! When they meet, the verse switches into sonnet form. Now, who can tell me what that symbolises? Anyone?” 

Another hour and a half later, after her half-asleep Year Elevens had made way for her rowdy Year Eights, Erin was perched on the arm of a sofa in the school staff room, sipping a watery coffee.  
“So, you’ll never guess what I heard in my lesson, just.” Michelle, who was taking up much of the sofa space, began. Miss Mallon was a PE teacher and Miss Quinn’s best friend, known for her ‘cruel to be kind’ teaching methods. Although she was often called a slave-driver, all her students loved her and regularly gave her high-fives in the corridor. 

Erin shoved her friend across to make room for Clare, a Science TA, and Orla, a teacher in the art department. The close-knit group were unexpectedly all best friends, coming from completely different departments, and spent much of their breaks and lunches together in the staff room.  
“What was it?” Clare queried. Michelle sipped her coffee and smiled mischievously.  
“Well, I was supervising a netball game with those little fuckers from Year Nine, and I overheard a couple of the girls chatting so I went over to give them a bollocking for not being active in the game. When I asked them what they were saying, Scarlet - you know Scarlet Jones, the little ratty one?” Nods all round and a disapproving look from Clare. “Well, she was like ‘Miss, we were just talking about Miss Quinn and Mr Maguire.”  
Erin almost choked on her drink. “They said what?”  
“Shush, this is where it gets good. I asked them what they meant by that, and the other one, Rosie, said that everyone, and she meant EVERYONE, at this school is shipping you,” a nod towards Erin, “and the Maths whizz extraordinaire.” 

As Michelle stumbled her way through what ‘shipping’ meant to a confused Clare and Orla, Erin sat back in disbelief. Her and... Mr. Maguire? James Maguire?  
She looked around the staff room furtively. There he was, over by the cheap coffee machine, talking to Jenny, the other Maths teacher. As she tried to block out Jenny Joyce’s squawking, Erin took in James’s tall, slightly stooping stature and perpetually nervous smile. 

She had never really hit it off with James. At a big whole staff trip to the pub on the last day of term last summer, she had wound up sitting by him. As the drinks continued, Erin had found herself getting into a rather heated argument with the mild-mannered Maths teacher over politics - even though, as Orla had pointed out, they were on each other’s side and completely agreed with one another.  
Apart from that, Erin had not had much contact with James. Orla and Clare insisted that he was perfectly nice, whereas Michelle, in her usual manner, was unsure about him - apparently he was “too nerdy to be attractive”. 

Erin suddenly realised that James was looking back at her, a small smile on his face. She flushed and looked down at her watch, hurriedly rushing off to her next lesson and almost forgetting her folder in the process.  
He was definitely attractive - she’d have to somehow subtly ask her next Year Ten class what ‘shipping’ really meant, and try not to think too much about Mr. Maguire’s curly hair or dimples.


	23. diary

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> james reads erin’s diary...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this should be canon

“Orla? Orla, you ready?”

“On the loo James, very important! Wait in my room, there’s a good lad.”

James rolled his eyes and went into Orla’s, frankly terrifying, room. The sheer amount of weaponry and camping equipment starkly contrasted the step aerobic gear littered over her floor. The walls were a garish green colour that made James’s eyes hurt slightly.

He felt a bit awkward in his friend’s room, so opted to just stand by the open door and wait. He had come to the Quinn/McCool house to pick up Erin and Orla and walk to school with them, but Erin had left early to hand in some sort of inane literary project, so he was left with Orla. James was respectfully minding his own business, when something on Orla’s pink polka-dotted duvet cover caught his eye.

It was a book. An open book.

James knew he shouldn’t, but he cautiously moved towards it, and realised with a shock that it was Erin’s diary. Whilst one part of his brain was thinking about all the ways Erin would try to murder Orla if she found out she had got her hands on her diary again, another part that James didn’t even realise was operational was making him move forward to pick up the book and start reading it.

Shit. It was open on yesterday.

_February 26th, 1996_

_I really don’t know what to do about James._

What?

_It’s not like I can talk to anyone about it - Clare would freak out and tell him, Michelle would just call me a prick, and... how can I ever tell Orla anything? She’s so mental. I can’t stand hanging out with him at the moment._

James’s heart dropped.

I _t’s so difficult now I’ve finally acknowledge that I like him._

Wait, what?

_God, that’s so weird to write. I can’t believe I like James Maguire! I am in so much turmoil I’m surprised I can even focus at school. Even David Donnelly doesn’t interest me anymore, I just want to be with James, but it’s impossible. It would be so... weird. I know it would mess everything up. Life is very difficult._

“Orla, I forgot my work, I think I left it in your- James!”

James practically threw the book away from him and stood up, guilty as sin. “I wasn’t, I didn’t, I-“ Shit. He was done for. Erin’s face was confused, but suddenly flushed as she spied what had been discarded on the floor. “Is that- is that my diary?”


	24. “why did you lie?”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> married jerin fight. very angsty without a happy ending

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oof i obviously love to suffer   
> this one is horrible and i truly apologise

“Why did you lie?”  
James spoke to his feet. His head was angled towards the floor, propped up by his hands that were resting on his knees. Erin felt miles away from her husband as she stood in the doorframe, watching him fall apart on the sofa. She could feel tears rolling down her cheeks.  
“I’m sorry.” Her voice trembled.  
“I don’t care that you’re sorry,” James’s voice was uncharacteristically venomous. “I’m asking you, why did you lie? Why would you do this to me? To us?”  
Erin tried to move, but her feet stayed planted on the floor. As if sensing it, James looked up. His eyes were red, bloodshot. He looked stricken.   
“Erin,” his voice cracked. “Just tell me why.”

She opened her mouth to speak but the breath caught in her throat. Almost impatiently, Erin knocked a hand over her face to brush the tears away. Her throat felt like it would explode, but she spoke until her voice came through. “Because, I couldn’t fucking talk to you. We’ve been at this too long.”  
“So you decided that sleeping with someone else would solve that?”  
“No, I-“ her hands were trembling as she clapped them together. “I knew it wouldn’t solve anything, it was stupid, so fucking stupid. But you have to understand-“  
“What?!” James suddenly stood up so fast that he looked almost superhuman. He came towards her and Erin stepped back into the hallway. “Understand what, Erin, because I can’t think of any fucking circumstance where that would be okay.”  
“You have to understand that I am tired, James!” Erin’s voice was raised as more tears fell from her eyes. “We got married too young and you know it. It isn’t fun anymore. I just feel... flat. I know sleeping with David wasn’t a solution but I just wanted to feel young again. I’m sorry. I don’t love you anymore.”

James’s face fell flat. It was almost terrifying how quickly his expression caved in on itself. He turned around and sat back on the sofa, stuck in his previous position. Then, he spoke so quietly that Erin could barely hear him.   
“You fucking hypocrite. You said... you said you would always love me.”  
Erin shut her eyes and sunk down against the wall until she was sat.   
“We were sixteen. Grow up, James. I can’t do this anymore.”


	25. food shopping

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> mary sends the wee dotes to the supermarket

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hiiii this one’s just short and cute and kind of a cliffhanger ahaha  
> hope everyone is doing okay in the wake of all the shit that’s happening atm, make sure you’re keeping yourself and your family safe and healthy!!

“I can’t really read your Mum’s handwriting, Erin...”  
“Oh, for God’s sake, give me that.”  
Eric snatched the shopping list off James and squinted at an indecipherable scribble. “Tomatoes. How can you not read that?”  
James looked at the list incredulously and decided to let his companion keep hold of the list. 

James had happened to be the last to leave the Quinn household that afternoon - the girls had organised an intense, after-school study session (what had actually happened was that the gang blasted music in Erin’s room and scoffed a load of dodgy looking sweets from Dennis’s Wee Shop). Just as he was getting ready to go, Mary strong armed James into accompanying Erin on the weekly shop.  
“Mammy,” Erin had whined. “Why do I have to do the shop? Why can’t you do it?”  
James hung about just long enough to see Mary’s face turn a shade of red he had never seen in his life, before taking the shopping list and money out of her hand and pushing Erin out the front door. Now, they were trundling around the shop together with a trolley, looking for half-price eggs and cheap bananas. 

James was reaching out to grab a box of Cornflakes when Erin’s tiny hand grabbed his wrist painfully. He jumped. “What?”  
Erin was staring past him with huge eyes, her eyebrows almost disappearing into her hairline. James followed her gaze - ah.  
John-Paul O’Reilley was stood in the next aisle, seemingly deep in thought over some tinned soup.  
“What do I do?” Erin whispered. “I haven’t seen him since he stood me up-“  
“Well, you didn’t really see him then...”  
“Shut up, James! Oh shit, shit, shit, he’s coming over.”

Erin scrambled to look semi-casual as John-Paul piped towards them, almost dropping the Cornflakes in the process. James caught them and whispered in her ear. “Calm down. You’re fine.” 

“Hey, Erin.” John-Paul looked awkward, almost like he regretted coming over at all. “Long time no see, eh?”  
James wanted to punch him in his (admittedly very good-looking) face. He was worried that Erin would smile and simper and act like an idiot, but it was worse. She didn’t say a word, only looked down at her shoes. It was so incredibly awkward. 

For once, James decided to take control.  
He grabbed Erin’s hand, which seemed to perk her up. Her head immediately jerked upwards as she stared at him. He smiled placidly.  
“Yeah, I don’t think you’ve seen Erin since she asked you to the prom, John-Paul.” James replied calmly. “Shame you couldn’t come to that. You must’ve had a good reason?”  
John-Paul shifted awkwardly and looked away. Erin now had her chin slightly elevated, a better sign.  
“Yeah, well, I um,” John-Paul stammered. “I wanted to apologise for that, Erin, I kind of patched things up with-“  
“Ach, that’s fine John-Paul,” Erin replied sweetly. James felt her squeeze his hand. “I’m sure you had better things to do.” 

Before he could stop himself, James added on. “Yeah, and I should really thank you - if you hadn’t stood Erin up that night, I never would have asked her out! So cheers, mate.” Erin gawked at him, but James somehow kept it together, despite the fact that his heart was beating out of his chest. James knew he was generally someone who actively avoided confrontation and hated lying, and here he was, doing both, with a boy who was admittedly quite a bit taller than him.  
John-Paul looked from James to Erin and back again. “Oh, I didn’t know you two were-“  
Erin, to James’s surprise, moved in closer to him and, still holding onto his hand, moved his arm around so it rested on her shoulders. He looked down at her and saw her green eyes were calm and steady. “Yep. Together. All thanks to you, John-Paul.” 

After an awkward goodbye, John-Paul left James and Erin standing together by the trolley, still linked together. Erin wriggled our from under James’s arm; James felt himself blush.  
“Thanks for that,” Erin cleared her throat and grabbed the trolley again. “Think we fooled him.”  
“Ha... yeah.”  
They continued shopping mostly in silence, only occasionally squabbling over Mary’s list. After checking out, James waited whilst Erin put the trolley back. She walked back over and looked morosely at the numerous bags at their feet.  
“How do you want to do this? Do you mind carrying the heavy stuff, it’s just-“  
“Do you want to go out with me?”  
James blurted it out before he could stop himself. Erin, adorably, looked taken aback.  
“What?”  
“Do you...” James blushed deeper. “Do you want to go out with me? As, like, more than friends?”  
Now it was Erin’s turn to blush. “Um...”


	26. lockdown encounters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> james meets his new neighbour during the covid qurantine

James seemed to be the only person he knew who was enjoying the lockdown. The weather was lush, he had plenty of books to read and films to watch, and he called his Aunt almost every day. 

He had already had his friend Clare on the phone this morning in tears because her toaster was broken - James suspected that other factors were at play, but he had discreetly ordered a new toaster from Amazon to be sent to her house in the hopes that Clare’s quarantine might improve. 

After trying for an hour to subdue Clare’s crying and finally succeeding, James rang his cousin Michelle, much to her frustration. Already a very irritable character in the best of circumstances, Michelle was adapting to the lockdown like a lamb in a lion’s den. 

Although, describing Michelle as a lamb to her face would have most likely resulted in James getting a dead arm. She was definitely a lion. 

“I don’t see why you feel the need to call me every other feckin’ day, James,” Michelle’s voice crackled down the line. “Don’t you have a life?”  
“Well, no. Not really.” James squinted in the sun in his back garden, where he was trying to make the most of the nice weather. “None of us have lives right now, Michelle.”  
“So why ring me if there’s nothing to talk about, dickhead?”  
James sighed. “Just checking up, Michelle. Your Mum said it would be nice for us to keep talking.”  
“I don’t need you checking up on me twenty-four feckin’ seven, I’m absolutely-“  
“Shhh!” 

James pulled the phone away from his ear and sat up in his deckchair. He could have sworn he heard something...  
“Don’t feckin’ shush me you dick!“  
“Hang on, Chell, I’ll call you back.”  
“Don’t call me back-!” 

James dropped his phone onto the deckchair and listened out again. 

“Oh for fuck’s- OW!”

That was definitely something. 

Someone’s voice, a female voice, was audibly shouting from the next garden along, but the owner of said voice was obscured by the garden fence. James was intrigued. 

“What the f- oh, for God’s sake!”

He scrambled up from his seat, remembered he was shirtless, hastily pulled on his discarded t-shirt, and ran to the fence. By standing on an overturned bucket that was left in the shrivelled flowerbed, James could poke his head over the fence. He looked, and saw something he wasn’t expecting. 

“Are you okay?”

The woman sat on the lawn blinked up at him. She was sat with her left leg stretched out in front of her, with both hands holding the ankle. Her eyes were huge and round and a brilliant hazel-green colour, and her hair was candy floss coloured and twisted onto the top of her head. She grimaced up at him. 

“Hi. You’re James, right?”

James cleared his throat nervously. “Yeah. Sorry, I don’t know who you are?”

“Oh, I’m Erin,” the woman smiled. “I’m Orla’s cousin, I’m quarantining with her. Can’t face the thought of being in lockdown with the rest of my insane family.” 

James laughed slightly, then spotted her stretched out leg again. “Is, uh, is your ankle okay? You sounded hurt.”  
“Oh, right. Yeah I was, um, I was doing some exercise and I think I must have twisted it funny or something?” James now noticed a big purple exercise ball and a black yoga mat laid out on the grass. Erin looked down, abashed. “Bit embarrassing, really.”  
“No, no, it’s not. Is there, ah-“ James scratched the back of his head awkwardly. “I would ask if there’s anything I can do but, I can’t really. Is Orla not in?”  
“She is, but I think she’s napping? Who even knows with her, she could be building a rocket in her room for all I know.”

James was fairly familiar with his next door neighbour, Orla McCool. Perfectly lovely, but also perfectly insane. When James had first moved onto this street four months ago, he was bombarded with casseroles and cakes and flapjacks from his new neighbours - as well as a huge novelty box of Freddos from Orla. 

He had a lot of time for Orla. 

Erin winced as she tried to move her ankle, and James was suddenly struck with an idea.  
“Oh! Stay there, don’t move.”  
He heard Erin laugh as he ran into the house. “Not going anywhere, sunshine!” 

James yanked his sunglasses off his face in the kitchen, hurriedly rummaging around in the medicine drawer for what he needed. Where the hell was it?  
Suddenly he remembered, pulled open the freezer and grabbed it. He quickly ran back outside to find Erin in the exact same position as before. He noticed her shoulders were slightly sunburnt, and the legs protruding from under the black cycling shorts she wore were tanned. 

“If I just, like, chuck it over the fence, do you think you can catch?”  
Erin lifted her hands up and grinned. “I’ll try not to injure myself again!”  
James threw the ice pack towards her, and she deftly caught it in one hand. Erin immediately placed it on the injured ankle and sighed with relief. 

“Oh, that’s cracker. Thanks a bunch, James.”  
“No problem at all.” 

Erin leaned back and blew a huff of air out of her mouth. “Well, I can’t really walk on this bad boy. Guess I’m marooned out here until Orla graces me with her presence.”  
James hesitated for a second, then decided: fuck it. “I could, if you wanted to, stay out here and, um, keep you company? For a bit?”

Erin smiled, showing straight white teeth and adorable dimples. James felt himself flush slightly. “Yeah, go on then. You haven’t got any ice lollies, have you?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i stole this idea off the hellscape that is tumblr but gave it an up to date 2020 twist 
> 
> these are such unfortunate circumstances at the moment, so i hope you’re all doing okay and staying healthy/safe etc x
> 
> kind of gave up on these prompts but rewatching the whole of derry girls again in lockdown has inspired me to start them again so expect more chapters soon!
> 
> ALSO erin has pink hair in this bc i watched the derry girls bake-off again recently (can you tell i’m obsessed?) and saoirse-monica had pink hair, which i LOVED on her


	27. practice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> james has a date and is nervous about kissing

“For God’s sake, James, can you stop fidgeting?”  
Erin regretted snapping at the English boy as soon as she saw his eyes widen sorrowfully at her.  
“Ach. Sorry. I know you’re nervous.” 

Everything about James’s body language suggested his nerves. He was bouncing his left leg up and down irritatingly, he was periodically smoothing his hair down against his scalp, and, most aggravatingly to Erin, he would occasionally get up from his seat at the kitchen table and begin pacing, almost without realising he was doing it. 

James blew a huff of air out of his mouth and planted his feet firmly on the floor to stop bouncing his knee. “Sorry. I just haven’t been on a date in... in forever.” 

He had rung Erin about half an hour previously, and from his garbled, anxiety-ridden speech, Erin deducted that he was about to go on a date but felt too scared and could he just pop round for a bit to try and calm down? Erin had swallowed down the unwelcome feeling of jealousy and invited him over for a cup of tea and a pep talk. As if she knew anything about dating. 

Now, the two mugs of tea sat cold on the kitchen table. James, in a new fit of nerves, began attacking his thumbnail with his teeth. Erin slapped his hand away from his mouth. 

“Stop it! Why’re you so worked up? You said you’d been on a few dates in London.” She grinned. “Unless you were lying?”  
James was so affronted he forgot to fidget. “I was not lying, I have. And Tilly Thompson is, like, the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen.” Erin rolled her eyes and ignored the weird feeling in her throat. Tilly was in their year and was very, very pretty. Clare had previously had a thing for her before realising that she was probably more into English boys than Irish lesbians.

“Michelle says she kisses every boy she goes on dates with, and...” James flushed. “I haven’t actually, you know, properly, um, kissed a girl before.” 

Erin was shocked; she had assumed that when he said he had ‘dated’, he had also had sex with those girls, or at least kissed them. Now, looking at the anxious English boy with his gelled-down curly hair and nervous tics, it seemed less plausible. 

“Oh. Well, um. Michelle might not be right? You know she tends to exaggerate.”  
“But what if she is right? What if Tilly does want to kiss me and I just freeze up, or, or what if I’m really bad and she doesn’t like me anymore?” He was beginning to go a shade of red that Erin had never seen before. He began pacing again. “I’ve only ever pecked girls, you know? I’ve never properly kissed anyone!”

Erin was at a loss for how to calm him down, he really was in a state. Then, before she could check herself, a suggestion came out of her mouth almost as if she wasn’t aware of it.  
“Maybe we could... practice?”

James stopped pacing and gawked at Erin, his mouth wide open. “Wh-what?”  
Erin immediately mentally whacked herself over the head; she could feel her face growing red.  
“Sorry, ignore me. I didn’t mean it. Stupid suggestion. Shouldn’t you be going soon?”

Unthinkingly, she grabbed her mug and sipped the tea; it was stone cold, and she dribbled it back into the cup. 

“Holy shit, that’s disgusting.” Her cheeks were flaming hot. “God, sorry, I didn’t mean it James.” She cursed herself mentally and refused to look at him. As she stared resolutely down into her lap, Erin heard James sit back down next to her. 

“Erin?”  
“Hm.”  
“Erin, look at me.”  
Slowly, Erin raised her head. James was sat a lot closer to her than he was before. He still looked nervous, but also, somehow, more calm than before.  
“Maybe we could practice?”

Erin’s throat felt dry and her heart sped up. Could he hear it beating? It certainly sounded loud enough to her.

“Yeah?”  
“Yeah. If you want to, I mean”. James licked his lips slightly and Erin’s heart beat impossibly faster.  
“Yes. I mean, sure, yeah, whatever. As friends?”  
“As friends.”  
“Okay, then.” 

They sat silently looking at each other for a second.  
“Do you want to-“  
“Should I-“  
They both blushed. James leaned forward even more. “Maybe... maybe shut your eyes?”  
“Okay.” Erin’s voice was hardly above a whisper. She closed her eyes. 

A pause.  
She held her breath. 

Then, ever so gently, James’s lips touched hers.  
There weren’t fireworks or explosions, like Michelle had promised for her first kiss. But James’s lips were warm and dry and soft against hers. They rested there for a few seconds until he pulled away. 

Erin opened her eyes. James was sat in front of her again. His pupils, Erin noticed, were bigger than before. She wondered what hers looked like. 

“Was that,” James cleared his throat. “Was that okay?”  
Erin looked down sheepishly. “Yeah, that was, um, nice.” She tried her luck. “Maybe... maybe you could try again? That was a peck really, wasn’t it?”

James didn’t reply, but simply leaned in. This time, there was more pressure, and James leaned further into Erin’s space. Hesitantly, she moved her hand onto his knee and let it rest there. James’s lips moved against hers, opening slightly and encouraging hers to do the same. Erin could hear her heartbeat in her ears like a drum. 

They broke apart slowly. James’s lips were red and looked slightly wet. Erin could hardly breathe. 

“I...” Erin’s blood roared in her ears. “That was... good.”  
“Yeah.” James’s voice had taken on a husky tone that Erin had never heard. Then, his eyes moved past Erin’s face and towards the wall behind her head. “Oh, shit, I need to leave or I’ll be late.”

He scrambled up and patted down his hair. “How do I look?” 

Erin could hardly speak, but somehow mustered up the words through a blocked throat. “Yeah, you look... fine.” 

James grinned at her nervously. He looked as though he was about to speak; his mouth opened and his brow furrowed. Erin waited, holding her breath. 

“Thanks, Erin. I’ll call you later and tell you how it goes.”

And with that, he was out the front door. 

Erin sat at the kitchen table and rubbed her eyes. Her chest felt heavy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is sad :( poor erin  
> this is in an au where katya and james weren’t a thing


	28. soulmates

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> everything is black and white until you meet your soulmate au (only works after you turn 18 which explains why james and erin don’t see colour until erin turns 18)

“Has it happened yet?”  
“No, Michelle, how the hell am I going to meet my soulmate in my own house?”

Erin’s eighteenth birthday had been fairly anticlimactic so far. Since she was the second oldest of the group after Michelle, none of the girls could actually go “out out”, as her curly-haired friend called it. Erin had received presents from her family, including a new Sinead O’Connor vinyl from her Da, and had enjoyed a big birthday lunch made by Mary, topped off with a very limp salad courtesy of Auntie Sarah. All in all, it had been a pretty lovely day, and the girls were due round in the evening for pizza and a few secret drinks. 

Michelle continues gabbling down the phone.  
“Ach, I guess you’re right, it won’t happen anytime soon, not whilst you’re stuck in Derry.”

Erin smiled. “Catch yourself on. God, imagine if I’ve already met my soulmate. How mad would that be?” 

Michelle sighed as contemplatively as she could. “You know, I really thought I would have met mine by now. You know Tommy, tough Tommy, the lad from the butchers? I really thought it might have been him.”

“Michelle, you barely know him. You wanked him off behind your shed.”

“Ach, I know. He’s a massive ride though, so it’s a shame it wasn’t him to be fair. I’ll be round in a bit, need to nick me Mam’s secret vodka first.”

“Please don’t get paralytic tonight and boke out my window again.”

“No promises!” 

Erin shook her head and put the phone down, before sitting down at her desk. Looking in the mirror, she wondered what things would look like in colour. What colour was her hair, or her eyes? Her Ma had tried to describe colours to her before, explaining what shade her hair was - Erin knew her hair was blonde, like her Ma’s, and Orla’s was brown like Auntie Sarah’s, but she had no idea what the difference was. She could tell that Michelle’s hair was dark, and Clare’s hair was light, and James’ hair was somewhere in between, but what kind of shade were they? And the green eyes that Erin apparently had, what did they look like?

She stretched her grey hand out in front of her, imagining it glowing and sparkling with light, instead of being the same dull shade of grey that was a constantly part of her life. At least she had Auntie Sarah to talk to. That very same morning, when Erin woke up an eighteen-year-old, Sarah had tapped her fag out into a coffee mug over breakfast and sagely said, “Now, you make sure that you don’t settle down with someone who isn’t your soulmate, love. I’m over the moon that I had my wee Orla, I really am, but I really should have waited until I could see colour. I’m not sure if it will ever happen now, honestly.”

Erin scared herself thinking about that possibility. All she wanted was to see the world for what it truly was. 

She sighed and turned away from the mirror, before standing up and brushing down her monochrome outfit. 

“Erin!” Mary’s hollered up the stairs. “The wains are here!”  
“Coming!”

Erin met Orla out in the hallway, who was dressed to the nines in some sort of boiler suit she had pilfered from Granda Joe. They linked arms and clattered downstairs.

The front door was already open, showing an already tipsy Michelle and a very sober Clare holding a lopsided banner above their heads, reading: ‘HAPPY BIRTHDAY ERIN YOU OLD FECKER’. Erin could see her Ma and Da pursing their lips at the language (which was undoubtedly Michelle’s doing) but was grateful when all they did was usher the girls in. Michelle has a distinctly bottle-shaped bulge under her jacket, which Mary pretended not to see, and Clare was almost collapsing under the weight of the presents she had hauled to the house. Erin furrowed her brow as Michelle, Clare and Orla scampered upstairs. 

“Where’s James?” She tried to hide the disappointment in her voice. “Is he not coming?”

“He is, don’t worry,” Clare turned back around when she reached the top of the stairs. “He just had to run back home because he forgot your present.”

“Oh.” Erin tried to ignore the warmth she felt flooding her cheeks. “Okay. I’ll wait here for him, then, shall I? You, um, you head on upstairs.”

She missed Clare’s raised eyebrows as she turned back towards the front door. 

Erin only had to wait for a couple of minutes, listening to the music Michelle had put on thumping from her room, before she heard a knock and saw a familiar shadow behind the glass in the door. Smiling to herself, Erin turned the handle and swung the door open. 

“Hi-“

Everything went white for what could have been an hour or a second. All Erin could see was a pair of wide eyes staring at her, full of shock. When the light faded, Erin squinted. 

The grey was gone.

“I, uh...” James looked like he might faint. “Happy birthday.”

Erin’s mouth hung open. Everything was so... bright. 

“Has this...” Her throat felt dry. “Are you... is everything...?”

“Yes.” James’ voice was hardly above a whisper. 

“Oh.”

They stood staring for a second, unable to speak, or move, or anything. The sky behind James’ head was so bright. 

Suddenly, James smiled slightly.

“So, now I know what green eyes look like.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i just think this is the cutest au everrrr


End file.
